Fragmentation
by enter your desired username
Summary: Despite tearing down many technological barriers in the advancing decades, perpetual war and a bloated military-industrial complex have left Earth in the year 2162 with no Mass Effect tech, no colonial empire, no knowledge of the greater galactic community and a dwindling population. For some observant individuals only one question remains: is it human nature, or something else?
1. Prologue

**Mass Effect and any characters are owned by Bioware and Electronic Arts. This is a AU fanfic, as such the plot, original characters, and the goat I sacrificed to Satan for an idea are all owned by me.**

**I am owned by me as well.**

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_**Prologue**_

_**January 3**__**rd**__**, 2114**_

_**Approximately 723 astronomical units outward from Eunomia's orbit….**_

Against the vastness that was interstellar space, the _Voyager 1 _probe seemed little more than an obtrusive speck in an otherwise calm pond of ancient and wondrous celestial bodies, though it had yet to encounter one since the passing of an unknown dwarf planet at the edge Arcturus' gravitational field. To a casual observer that would be exactly what they would see, a relic of a time where "boldly going where no man had gone before" was the dream of millions of stargazers. Of course that dream had not completely died out back on earth; however these aspiring cosmic adventurers were an ever decreasing minority. The non-sentient craft would remain eternally ignorant to the mass carnage and bloodshed that perpetually plagued the war-torn nations of earth, the kind of violence expected of primitive tribes fighting for food and mates. This period of civilization, it seems, had reared its ugly head yet again, the advanced weapons of hellfire burning away the curiosity and wonder that a once optimistic species had embodied.

The golden disk that adorned the side of the craft symbolized this perfectly. Music and speeches from thousands of cultures and hundreds of nations were mixed with scientific theory and fact from countless decades, all coming together to form a wondrous picture of a united humanity, no matter how brief. But now, after no many decades of celestial travel, the golden coating had eroded and cracked, its contents now at risk of succumbing to the powers of a near-vacuum. Soon its creators, too, may fade quietly into the Cosmos when the last of earth's weapons of mass destruction unleash its terrible power.

For humanity, the _Voyager 1 _was nothing more than a hopeful gesture in a hopeless environment.

For the large craft that had been in pursuit since its fly-by of a listening post on that inconspicuous rock, however, it represented a grave error in containment protocols. The space vehicle was quit large by earth standards; approximately 200 metres in length. Its avian features distinguished it most from the known recordings the _Voyager _had of human space vehicles. However it could gather no further data to compliment its readings of the listening post before a bright flash of light engulfed it, instantaneously obliterating the probe.

The aggressor wasted little time confirming the probes destruction before it turned course for the centre of the system. Its communications system emanated a constant stream of information, reaching towards all craft linked on a similar frequency, warning of potential security breaks in the 375 containment field. It's final, heavily encrypted burst reached out towards that very contained system, linking with a classified node directly under a normal and uninteresting patch of desert in Nevada…..

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**And now for something, completely different...**

**I got bored of trying to stomache the crap that is _Mass Effect: More than Meets the Eye _and decided I wanted to go about on my own with an original idea, so far as I can tell anyways.**

**This is a heavily altered AU fic, so of course characters are going to be both different, older, younger, probably meaner, and above all hairier, so if this causes any distress then...go read something else...I guess.**

**Otherwise, I hope you like it! If not, tell me why and I'll take your feedback into consideration.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all very much for the reviews, they were quite kind and informative, and one of them was just one word but still very positive. Short and sweet they say, I think.**

**I suppose I should say that, much like the characters themselves, I'll be taking a few scientific liberties to advance the plot towards my sinister machinations. Just blame it on space-magic.**

**Also, my choice of past and present tense does...well...suck indeed, been told that since Grade 6.**

**You can blame that on space-magic too.**

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_**Chapter 1**_

_**April 4**__**th**__**, 2162**_

_**United States Military Assistance Command-Australia (MAC-A) Forward Base of Operations **_

_**115 km outside Sydney Australia**_

The tires of a HMMWV MRK VI sputtered through the thickening mud of a once abandoned farming road, the all terrain vehicle easily navigating the grasping strands of eroded soil. The occupant seated on the passenger side gazed out his window at the sheets of rain pelting the heavy armor plating; he hadn't seen this much rain in a while, it rarely ever rained back in the states after the failure of the last ozone patch. It never used to rain this much here either, he thought to himself, remembering a training exercise between his MARSOC fireteam and the Australian SASR.

_Damn fine soldiers, pity this land grab's turned their country inside out…._

"Colonel?" A voice from the driver's side stirred him from his thoughts, "We're at the FOB sir, want me to head to straight to your bunk?"

"Negative Private, I've been sitting on my ass for the last four hours." The gruff passenger replied, "If I don't un-kink my legs soon I might as well roll myself at the Chinese."

"Roger that sir, I'll drop you off at the front of the complex then." The private spoke just as the Humvee circled in front of the heavily guarded entrance. The Colonel gave the driver a sharp salute before turning towards the gate, his identification pointed in front of him. The MP Officer nodded, following with a salute of his own.

"Evening Colonel Grissom. General Williams wanted to see you at his personal encampment as soon as you arrived, sir. He says it's urgent."

Grissom grunted under his breath. "I'm sure it is, send word that I'm on my way."

"Yessir!" came the guards reply.

With that, the grizzled veteran of the United States many expeditionary wars trudged through the pouring rain, any thoughts of the past completely erased from his mind the further he descended into the camp.

…

Befitting of a four star general, Richard Williams's personal quarters in the complex were nothing short of luxurious, so far as flamboyant living in a military setting could go anyways. It was a complex of various luxuries and perks unaffordable to the common grunt, earned from the countless victories of the various Military Assistance Commands he had held since the 1970's concept was reintroduced years back. Grissom had to scoff at the notion of obtaining any sort of comfort in this line of work, any sort of semblance of normality. Creating a psychological bubble of ignorance was the key to avoiding any post-traumatic stress; ignoring the countless bodies that lined the streets and fields after a battle, but you had to balance that with the realization that your actions just ended the life of someone very similar to yourself. Ultimately he was a patriot; Grissom had never hesitated to kill an enemy combatant, nor had he ever disobeyed a direct order, objectively anyways. But he was still human; he hated the idea of taking a life, especially of a fellow soldier toiling in the same much and filth as he for a goal both sides shared, regardless of the complete breakdown of diplomacy in 22nd century Earth. Being here in the frontlines helped keep things in perspective. But being an arm-chair general….that perspective is lost amongst the dehumanizing of soldiers as assets and numbers.

Not that Grissom hated his superiors, or General Williams in particular; he just didn't trust them, what with their lofty perch above the battlefield.

Granted, he didn't really trust anyone that he hadn't served with in the field…maybe some PTSD managed to worm its way into his psyche after all…..

Grissom was again lifted from the veil of thought as Williams and his personal entourage of armed guards appeared in the room that the Colonel had been directed to. Any personal opinion or dislike for the man standing in front of him was immediately silenced as protocol and training took over, his right hand curtly raised to his brow in a crisp salute.

"At ease Colonel, walk with me."

Grissom complied, taking his place at the side of the General in lieu of his personal guard. Like a good soldier, he allowed Williams to chair the conversation, despite being perfectly aware of his…..ambiguous conversational paths.

"Drink Colonel?" He asked as the two officers strolled down a decorated corridor.

"I'm fine sir, I'm half expecting to have bullets flying past my head before the alcohol wears off."

"Hmmm, attentive as usual." Williams picked up a glass and carefully poured himself a shot of whisky. "This, country is it? Continent? Not really sure how far the ecology stretches but regardless, the Australian environment has really shaped some strong, hardy people, natural selection at it's finest I might say. Of course this is mostly after, they….kicked out the original tenants that is. Damn shame the way we treat our indigenous populations, even in the "civilized Commonwealth".

"I suppose sir, but my speciality isn't discerning the motives of populations. That's what your analysts are for." A curt response might get him in trouble, but it would also speed up any labyrinthian conversations.

"Fair enough Colonel," He paused to sip at his drink. "my point is that regardless of how or when the current Australians got here, this land has produced stubborn individuals and sowed the seeds of nationalism! And that is a problem for anyone trying to prevent precious resources from falling into the hands of a malevolent dictatorship!"

"With all do respect, sir, I'd say the Kiwi's are about as nationalistic as the Canadians, which is slightly below a dog protecting a patch of grass that he pissed on."

Williams promptly placed his drink on an adjacent table, now staring directly at Jon. "Then explain why our Intel suggests pockets of Australian "freedom fighters" equipped with Chinese weapons led by Chinese officers. We've got a potential insurgent crisis on top of the fact that the Asian War Machine continues to outnumber us at least five to one! This might be something you can joke about now, but I'd like to see you try once you're flanked by a group of fucking civilians!"

Jon had been in the military long enough to know when to relent, and a superior officer verbally assaulting you was one of those times. "Sorry sir, your comment just caught me as strange. I won't make that mistake again."

That seemed to simmer Williams down; he had his drink back in his hands. No sane man would start screaming with a perfectly good whisky balanced precariously in his grip. "Understood, Colonel, I've been under a bit of extra stress since these bastards killed four of my recon battalions. I'm blind in three sectors and short at least fifty of the best pathfinders under my command."

"Which means you need me to do something, right?"

Williams smiled, the scar running down his face now contorted due to the muscle movement. He tossed Grissom a data pad filled with various statistical data lists and geographic maps. "Damn right I do son. We located what appears to be the central network hub for this insurgent group's communications. Get in there, take it down and this annoyance should implode on itself. That's the key to these civilian militia's, you know; organization. Without it, they might as well be local wildlife. I figure SOG would be able to do this without letting the Chinese know, worst case scenario they declare this a failure and focus on shock tactics again. The stuff we actually are equipped for. Best case? They try again, and we nail these communist assholes right were it hurts, and knock down this suddenly brave populous a notch or two."

_Yeah, hard to save them from an oppressive regime if they start thinking for themselves_, thought Grissom. "Yessir." Was his only reply.

"Good." Williams sat down in a large chair; a near-by window overlooked an expansive courtyard. "By the way, Jon. While you're out there, something's been scrambling the Air Force's Orbital Reconnaissance Drones, and the techs have narrowed down the source to a couple of places. First ones just south of the deployment zone listed on you map, the second is somewhere in the state of Nevada. Since you're touching down in that area, I figure you might as well have a look. It'll save the government the trip to that deserted wasteland if you find anything."

"I'll keep my eyes open sir." He replied, ignoring a rather uncomfortable feeling rising in his gut…..

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**Aaaaaaannnnnddddd Chapter 1 (2) is done, and longer this time too, possible a little less vague.**

**I will warn you that it might take a bit for the plot to be fully realized in the story, but I'll try to keep it all interesting. Do not worry, this is not an "humans only" type of story.**

**Also, don't expect regular updates. I have no idea when my schedule will facilitate that sort of thing.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed the read!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello again, I apologize for the long gap in publishing...or whatever fanfiction calls it. What with trying to reconstruct my schedule for university, deal with some family matters, and survive the biblical flood we experienced...its been fairly crazy as of late.**

**Anyways, here is the next installment. I'd like to give a shout out to my good friend Xurik, who kindly allowed me to bounce my ideas off of, including some of the tech which I'll introduce later. He also suggested codex entries to explain the new Universe, so whenever you see a "*", that means there's a codex entry to explain dat schtuff.**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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_**Chapter 2**_

Grissom's gaze dropped to his wrist-mounted biometrics monitor for the fourth time in two minutes, the shield and heart-rate levels being the only constant confirmation of his teams status over the large distance between them and the operations zone. Typically a commander would utilize his _Horus_ comm.-links to coordinate and monitor troop movements and the groups status, an efficient and reliable tool that would cut through any frequency jamming regardless of origin or strength. That would have been especially useful considering the perpetual blanket of interference over this particular area. However recent intel suggested that the Chinese had developed counter-measures to the system that essentially turned the devices frequency regulator into a localized jammer itself, which was a potential handicap the colonel couldn't afford. Especially being as deep into Chinese territory as they were, on as sensitive a mission as they were, and without any sort of heavily armoured or armed vehicle to back them up.

In fact, as far as they knew, they were completely isolated in a surveillance and communications dead zone. No way to scout ahead for enemy movements any farther than a commando's field of view, and no way to call for back-up when shit hit the fan.

A soldiers absolute _favourite_ situation.

Per General William's orders, Grissom selected his five most trusted and skilled operators from his SOG* outfit to instigate what could only be called a "vengeful counter-insurgency op", and left the strategizing to Jon. Not that it particularly bothered him, but having no central blue-print resulted in a painstakingly long trek through no-man's-land while Grissom analyzed every bit of intelligence available about the compound. Supposedly, it was a technologically unimpressive former brewery with a small contingency of active, Australian insurgents. Not exactly something that would haunt his dreams, but a civilian militia usually meant families were in close proximity, which, combined with the communications blackout, complicated any direct-action and ruled out several back-up and exit plans.

Of course this became completely inconsequential once the group rendezvoused at a well covered building a few blocks north and realized that their intel may very well have been describing a brewery in a completely different country.

Grissom turned to his recon man beside him, his eyes peering into his scope.

"You seeing what I'm seeing Hackett? Or is my visor just fogged up?"

The grizzled lieutenant turned his gaze towards his CO. "If you're looking at the exact opposite of what ISA* described, then you're visors fine, unlike our situation." He handed his rifle to Grissom. "You see those turrets? For starters, insurgents shouldn't even have _one_ turret, let alone three dozen, especially when your country is as torn apart as Australia is. Regardless, they're a Neutral* country to begin with, so if they even invested in turrets they'd use energy-based rounds. These are high calibre, explosive shells powered by oscillating electro-magnetic fields. M7H-447's, only the Chinese develop and use those." Hackett entered a code into his suits computer and transferred a thermal image of the complex to Grissom's visor, with external guard concentrations highlighted. "On top of that, we have a heavy presence in the courtyard and thermal shielding inside, which I would bet means they have a fuck-ton of personal inside too _and_ would make locating any civilians downright impossible from the outside. I don't know what to tell you Colonel, but this doesn't look like any insurgency HQ I've seen."

Grissom began to mull the information over, quickly glancing back at Hackett. "Did you catch the uniform design?"

"Yeah, T-600 Battle armour*, the usual PLA garb."

"Shit." Grissom cursed, "Means the Chinese have already fortified the place. They must' of expected an attack on their rebel op."

"I don't get it." This from Jill Dah. "This place is smack dab in the middle of a shielded zone surrounded by skyscrapers. It should be down right _impossible _to actually detect this place, let alone specify a building type. And yet, intel did, but fucked up royally on its defences. Did they have a shift change halfway through this report?"

"Might have been a disheartened rebel looking for help. _The Activity_ didn't specify how they got the intel."

Jason Mikhailovich, the team's heavy weapons expert, walked into Grissom's field of view. "PLA and militia vs six lowly SOG operators in a old building we know nothing about? What if I only use my pistol? Think that'll give them a better chance?"

"Stow the bravado Sergeant, we have the potential for non-combatants." retorted Grissom. "We can't go in with a running-and-gunning attitude."

"I hate to be the voice of pessimism," stated Hackett, "but we don't really have a lot of options. Collateral damage might be unavoidable, and considering how quickly this seems to be going FUBAR, we might have to play a little dirty."

Again, Grissom began to mull the options over in his head, the gears desperately attempting to grind out a stratagem, preferably one with as little bloodshed as possible.

_Playing dirty….hmm….._

Suddenly, the gears clicked, and a grin slowly crept onto his concealed face. He rotated one hundred and eight degrees to face the remaining duo. "Simmons, how good is your mandarin?"

The Sergeant-Major looked puzzled. "Passable, I think. I can probably spit out a coherent sentence."

"Good." Replied Grissom. "Everyone bring up the schematics for this building." The teams opaque visors briefly flickered as the blue-prints for the brewery flashed into view. Luckily for them, they appeared to match the building they were situated across from, so far as the external design anyways.

_I guess ISA might actually have SOME competent agents after all. _Jon thought to himself.

"Alright, judging by the support structures and foundation measurements, the buildings basement is probably not too much below street level and, besides the old brewing tech, mostly made up of a large atrium. The walls are thick and insulated, and the only route to it would be threw the sewer, so any external force would have to be desperate or made up of pyromaniacs to attack from there. Any civilians are probably situated around that area, and since I don't think they'd expect a commando run from underground, it's probably not well guarded."

"Including a lack of murderous turrets." Stated Sergeant Rick Walters, the groups final member.

"Exactly. The basement route is our best option, we just have to get past the wall."

"Shouldn't be too hard." Stated Mikhailovich. "If the basement walls are half as old as the building looks, they should crumple pretty easily. The problem is any noise we'd make."

"If we set off some thermal generators to weaken the concrete enough, we can dig through the wall without alerting the entire building. Then comes the "dirty play", as Hackett put it." The group looked at him puzzled. "The fact that there are civilians in play means we have a….bargaining chip, so to speak. If we coral the non-combatants, we can easily paralyse the militia and possibly use them to force the Chinese to stand down."

Hackett looked at his commanding officer. "What then? We just waltz out of there with a hundred refugees?"

"Not exactly." Grissom replied. "We demand the militia to surrender itself or the families will be killed. Hopefully the only reason this insurgency exists is because of Chinese intimidation. If the Chinese don't stand down, or don't let the militia lay down its arms, then we evac the civilians and let both sides wear each other down before moving in and cleaning house."

"And if neither side backs down?"

Grissom paused at this.

"If neither side backs down, then we bring out the heavy weapons. Our top priority at that point is to neutralize any and all threats to American troops. The civilians are…expendable….."

Everyone remained quite after Grissom finished that last sentence, letting the terrible situation that these families now face sink in. Unfortunately it doesn't help you much as a soldier _or _a human being to dwell on the carnage you willingly cause, but it is also one of the most natural processes a psyche can undergo. Colonel Grissom finally broke the silence.

"Its not a perfect plan, but it's a plan. And considering what we're up against, that's not a bad worst-case-scenario."

Again the group fell silent for a few seconds, only for the silence to be broken yet again. This time by Walters.

"I fucking hate war."

…..

"Hey, remember when I said I fucking hate war?" The ever restrained Walters chimed in. "Yeah, well I fucking hate sewers too. Jesus Christ, the rats down here look like the could chew through a F-1500!"

"Its Australia Walters." Responded Dah. "Even the air here wants to kill you."

Grissom re-checked the sewer maps, noting the distance between them and the atrium wall. "Get ready people, walls half a click in front of us. I want targeting matrices running sweeps _before_ we tear down the wall. And make sure you have your frontal shields at half power, otherwise you'll have a hell of a time grappling with the hostages."

"Were calling them hostages now sir?" Questioned Simmons.

"I'm calling the situation as it is Sergeant, things could get messy. Besides, when did SOG ever follow orders?"

Any response was immediately silenced as the group rounded the corner, the outer wall of the atrium lying directly in front of them. According to the schematics, a small office space was situated on the other side, the perfect location to recon and plan after the breaching group expertly began powering up their Pulsar Rifles and Resonator Submachine guns, checking and rechecking each limbs shielding and armour. Grissom's suit computer noted the influx of information transfer from the group, a sign that each helmets targeting vectors were powering up and predicting optimal enemy locations. He switched his visor to thermal mode, hoping to gain a clearer picture of troop concentrations on the other side of the wall. Unfortunately, the basement wall was shield as well.

With that, Grissom nodded to Mikhailovich, who promptly placed a small thermal generator at the base of the structure. Normally used to heat and power equipment, the charge would send a relatively silent pulse of heat outwards when overloaded, which would weaken the bonds holding the brick and concrete enough that the group could manually start to tear it down. No explosions, no loud noises, and no civilians directly in the path of a blast.

For now, anyways.

Mikhailovich signalled that the generators were set to overload, and the group quickly ducked behind an adjacent wall. Moments later, a burst of heat wound its way around the protective wall, alerting the group that the wall's structural integrity would be as weak as possible. The group moved towards it cautiously, not wanting it or the tunnel's walls to collapse on them as they dug. Pulling out a large piece of disintegrating concrete, Simmons silently spoke.

"You know, this is why I opted out of _Gray Fox_. I couldn't stand the thought of my crappy intel screwing over the hard working members of the ground forces. Fucking ass holes."

"You just hate any position that isn't yours." Countered Hackett with a slightly audible smirk.

"Especially ones you wouldn't be good at." This from Walters. "You need to have the right stuff for that kinda thing. My Great Grand-daddy was an intel officer during the Rainforest Wars, and he said if you did your job right, any information you needed would fall right into your lap. Like a….message in the static or something. The intel would tell you what to do, and you'd connect the dots. Lives saved, enemies killed, sex and booze at eight, sort of thing."

"That's the closest thing I've ever heard to psuedo-science in the military intelligence community." Retorted Simmons. "You sure your great grandpa didn't just _imagine_ he was in the war."

"Just shut up and help me with this fucking brick Simmons. The son-of-a-bitch is stuck…..oh SHIT!"

Just as the curse exited his lips, the wall completely destabilized, pulling down an entire curtain of brick and concrete. The group dove backwards and away from the falling debris, trying to gather their senses as the dust cleared. When it did, however, Grissom found himself staring at a situation far worse than he had originally feared.

That small "office" happened to instead be a repurposed conference room, in which a meeting with several high ranking PLA officers happened to be attending. Along of course, with their heavily armoured elite, shock-troop body guards.

As the guards drew their weapons, Simmons again broke the silence, muttering what every SOG commando was thinking.

"Fucking shit…"

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**CODEX ENTRY**

MILITARY ASSISTANCE COMMAND-AUSTRALIA (MAC-A) AND THE STUDIES AND OBSERVATIONS GROUP (SOG)

The Military Assistance Command protocal is a unified command structure intended to promote unit and branch cohesion for American troops during prolonged and localized armed engagements. The idea first emerged during the Vietnam War in the mid-20th century to help offset the disadvantages American troops faced in a foreign and hostile land. Though largely abandoned after American involvement in Vietnam ended, the influx of armed and violent conflicts in the late 21st century led to the reemergence of the concept, as soldiers found themselves facing similar obsticles in the new world of conflict. Every war the United States enters now first beigns with the formation of a Military Assistance Command to oversea and command any personal or equipment that falls under its juristiction. Each of the four branches of the US Armed Forces transfer a large quantity of officers and leaders into an advisory pool, and from this pool elect a theatre commander to act as the ranking officer for this particular conflict. The commander of the MAC is granted enormous amounts of operational freedom, and can utilize his or her resources in whichever fashion they deem fit, though they are expected to head the advise of other high ranking officers to avoid a branch-based tactical blindspot. Ultimately the MAC Commander reports to the Commander-in-Chief of the current operational area (for example, both Australia and Vietnam fall under the juristiction of US Pacific Command), who reiterats orders from the Joint Chiefs of Staff and, as a consequence, the President. However, commanders are expected to exert their own operation judgement, and as such suffer no punishment if a command is ignored so long as it does not prove detrimental to the United States as a whole. The current commander of MAC-A, as of 2162, is General Richard Williams of the United States Marine Corps.

The Studies and Observations Group are the MAC's secretive special forces arm, dedicated to provide a flexible and broad range of missions including (but not limited too): direct action, unconventional warfare, special reconaissance, psychological warfare, and a wide range of deniable ops. It is unknown how many commandos make up the SOG, nor who its unit commander is, but they have a fierce and feared reputation amongst those who know of their existance, and almost exclusively recruit from Joint Special Operations Command's elite teir-1 units. This secrecy is preserved mostly by the units official cover; supposedly they consist entirely of analysts reporting directly to the pentagon, whose primary goal is to reiterate the Joint Chiefs orders and to inform them of any signifcant occurances in the command structure. In truth, they are a perminant contingent of an already highly elite force who have single handedly ended several high-profile conflicts with their unconventional approach to war.

...

**CODEX ENTRY**

INTELLIGENCE SUPPORT ACTIVITY (ISA-ALSO REFERED TO AS _GRAY FOX _OR _THE ACTIVITY_)

The Intelligence Support Activity remains, to this day, the primary military intelligence unit in the United States Armed Forces. Originally established as a US Army unit committed to providing ground forces with accurate intelligence reports, the ISA absorbed the Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI) to become the only fuctional military intelligence unit the United States had. This widespread operational freedom made the unit the prefect candidate for the newly christed _MAC protocal's _intelligence unit, and as such was transfered to operate under the direct command of any MAC group currently active, as directed by the President and his/her's National Security Advisor. The ISA recruits and collaborates with both the CIA and the NSA, and preforms many joint operations with the Studies and Observations group. However, due to a recent (and successful) hacking attempt on one of the ISA's main data-banks, and the discovery of a MI6 mole which have resulted in several significant intelligence blunders, relations between the group and the near-paranoid secrecy of the SOG have lead to somewhat strained relations.

...

**CODEX ENTRY**

THE POLITICAL LANDSCAPE OF 2162 EARTH

Armed and widescale conflict have plagued the nations of Earth since mankind first developed the tools to do so, however only in recent times have the frequency of such conflicts created such a perilous perdicament for the species. Dwindling resources and populations are the most direct symptom of the escalating violence, though the complete haulting of scientific advancement (particularly in the field of astro-engineering and astronomy) in the place of weapons research and development, have set back humanities overall scientific literacy by several decades and turned much of the population into nations of warmongers. There is, however, a split between the function of different nations, typically defined as the Former Superpowers and the Neutral Countries.

Former Superpowers:

These nations were once the most powerful on earth, and the loss of prestige and influence hasn't stopped many of them from continuing a bullying international relations policy, and a completely Darwinistic mindset towards others. Almost all of these nations are fragmented and splintered, disregarding any alliances and breaking apart several international institutions they helped create merely a century ago. In addition, these waring states focus solely on military matters, resulting in (relatively) high numbers of troops and advanced weapons and armor. As a consequence, many of these nations resumble little more than post apocolyptic slums, their resources depleated and their cities bombed. Typically, this results in the invasion of a Neutral country in order to subjugate their natural resources. Often, this results in a direct conflict with another former superpower attempting to do the same, such as the current situation in Australia between the Americans and Chinese.

Neutral Countries:

These are the European and Commonwealth countries, who refuse to resort to violence and conquest to support their nations. All losely alligned with one another, they promote scientific advancement and peaceful living over blunt force diplomacy and war, resulting in much cleaner and prosperous countries and happier citizens. Though they too suffer from resource shortages, and as such are not nearly as technologically developed as they could be if war did not constantly ravage the planet, these nations are able to rely on allies when in need of support, and ultimatly offer a glance at what humanity's future _could _have been. However, due to the philosophy of science of bloodshed, Neutral countries are completely helpless should a Former Superpower invade, with most waring nations being more than a match for four or five neutral countries combined. With each passing year, the number of standing Neutral countries continue to strink as more fall in the wake of a superpowers onslaught. The exceptions to this trend are Canada and the United Kingdom, who through successful bartering and dipolmacy, as well as a dominant intelligence system under a joint CSIS-MI6 protocal, have remained relatively unthreatened from external threats. How long this last, however, is up to debate.

...

**CODEX ENTRY**

WEAPONS AND ARMOUR TECHNOLOGY OF THE MAC-A

The complete abandonment of scientific inquiry has left nations such as the United States woefully lacking any significant technological achievements, with the exception of weapons technology and armour applications. This also includes several evolved variants of military craft and vehicles, which have been adapted to meet the needs of the "24/7 soldiers" as they are referred to in media.

Weapons:

The typical American weapon is a direct energy gun or some variant of that, with a few exceptions. The most general assualt rifle utilized (with several specialized variants) is the Mark V Pulse Rifle, standard issue for any unit organized under a MAC. The gun utilizes a generator powered fusion cell to send out a radiant pulse throughout the gun. Crystals within the gun redirect the energy released into a condensed beam that exits the rifle at the speed of light. The radiate particles amplified by the crystals then begin to eat away the molecular proporites of the armour or skin, eventually seperating the bonds and disintigrating the target. The gun also makes use of lights duel nature as a wave or a particle by releasing the energy burst in a sweeping, concussive shot. Though not nearly as effective against armoured targets due to the brnahcing projectile motion, it will disable all but the strongest shields and irradicate any unarmoured targets, as well as moving through various rows of troops as if it were a double slit experiment.

The counter to energy based weapons reside in any variant of the Resonator Submachine Gun. This gun uses highly volitile ammunition suspended in an electrically charged compartment. When fired, the gun creates a powerful sonic wave the bounces through the interior of the gun, propelling the bullets at super-sonic speeds with a blinding rate of fire. This is effective at wearing down almost any target or putting massive amounts of rounds downrange, however ammunition consumption is a highly apparent problem.

Armour and Shielding:

Each suit has seperate shield generators for each limb in order to keep movement as unrestricted as possible. The suits central computer detects any movement or change in temperature in the air consitant with a fired projectile and directs a massive electro-magnetic pulse to the intended target, violently slapping it away. Heavier projectiles typically can bypass this burst, depending on the genorators strength, but this provides extreme protection against regular rounds, even multiple ones fired at once. However, a constant barrage of projectiles will evertually overwhelm the computer, requiring it to reboot and dropping the shields momentarily. This computer can also be destroyed, rendering any use of shielding impossible. The SOG is interested in testing a special project developed by the Canadians orginally intended to shield cities from bombardment, which uses gravitational fields instead of electro-magnetic pulses.

Armour is a heavily plated suit fixed with a flexible nano-weave undergarmet. The plating is infused with a liquid substanace that, when exposed to any temperature below its boiling point will crystalize to form essentially a internal diamond structure. This allows the armour to deflect and absorb copious amounts of damage from high-end weaponry should the shields fail, however the armour is usely in extreme heat as the diamond structure will re-liquify.

Vehicles:

Most vehicles utilize the same shielding and armour as the ground troops, though on a much larger scale. The main advancement is that of the Aerial Navy, large ships and carriers that use high altitude flight instead of seas to move. Since any and all insight into space propulsion has been eradicated due to the massive amounts of orbital defense cannons and ground-to-space launchers, the United States Navy instead took to developing anit-gravity flight. These ships utilize the electr-magnetic field generated by the shields to escentially manipulate the space around them at a subatomic level. The field genreated is tuned specifically to target the charge of both the ships hall and the particles surrounding it, increasing or decreasing the positive or negative level each particle exhibits. A highly active pulse will manipulate the charges to an extent that each particle will reject the corresponding opposite, creating an reversed electrostatic field that pushes the ship higher and higher off the ground, and keeping it afloat so long as an electrostatic field exists around it. This resulted in near complete air superiority for America before other nations developed similar craft, both on the scale of Aircraft carriers and troop transport ships.

* * *

**Well, thats the end of that. Sorry if my codex pages aren't quite Mass Effecty, I was basically trying to establish the differences between this version and the canon ME Universe. Also, I don't plan on making this hard science fiction (ie Asimov esq), but rather make the tech seem unique, since humanity will not be utilizing the typical Dark Energy/Eezo tech.**

**Also, I promise some actual fighting next chapter too, I'm just trying to introduce the characters and what not.**

**This is kinda like a prologue-act. Act 1 starts very soon indeed...**


	4. Chapter 3

**Well hello, didn't see you there!**

**For starters I apologize for the large gap in updates, I appreciate anyone sticking around and looking for updates. In order to justify my tardiness, alow me to toot my own horn...**

** School just started again, but before that I had some pre-school endevors with a former Chief of Staff for the Prime Ministers Office (if that sounds big and exciting, it isn't really. Just going over the job description, since that particular career path is of great interest to a nerd such as myself. If your wondering what that is, search up Leo McGarry from _The West Wing_. Thats the general picture of what Chiefs of Staff do) which took some time.**

**I also am now the host, executive producer, and lead writer for a radio program at the university, so a lot of time was spent finding other staff members and finalizing outlines/scripts.**

**Either way, to make it up to you (I hope), I'll be getting the fourth chapter to you this evening too. So stay tuned after this.**

**And thanks again folks!**

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

"GET THE FUCK DOWN!" Grissom screamed, hurtling himself behind a jagged piece of wall still standing after the failed initial breach. His team followed suit as the Chinese Shock Troopers* immediately opened fire; their erratic bursts a telling sign of mutual surprise. Grissom cautiously craned his neck around the debris in time to witness the PLA officers-Generals according to the insignia's on their jackets-were hurried out of the room by several guards. Raising his gun in level with the lead ones head, Grissom squeezed the trigger hard, the burst of energy emanating from the muzzle. However, either through luck or stupidity (or possibly both), the nearest Chinese trooper hurdled himself into the path of the energy projectile, his damaged shields and armour obliterated by the concentrated blast. The soldiers sacrifice allowed the last of the escaping General's to retreat through the doorway, causing Grissom to curse. Hackett screamed towards the Colonel's direction after he dropped back into cover.

"Grissom! I've got a large body of foot mobiles that just appeared on the tracker! Looks like their cutting through the atrium from an armoury of some sort!"

"Any sign of the civilians?"

"Negative, I've got nothing but hostiles behind that wall! If they're here, the Chinese must be holding them somewhere deeper in the complex."

_ Shit. _Though Grissom. _More multipliers against us._

Mikhailovich-who was crouched nearest to Grissom-turned in the Colonel's direction.

"Do you think the brass is heading for evac?" He asked, raising his voice several decibels to negate the sound of crumbling cover and gunfire.

"Negative!" Grissom responded equally as loud, "If I was them I'd assume we're the spearhead of a larger force. They're probably heading for the hostages now to try and barging some way out if we end up slaughtering their guards!"

"When we slaughter them!" He retorted, a glancing blow from a new squad pilling through the door flickering against his shields. "But either way we're in a shitty position sir!"

"The shittiest by far! But if we weren't trained for exactly this kind of situation, then I've got no fucking idea why we're even here!" Grissom turned towards the remaining members of the group, his voice bellowing at a level even he was surprised. "Alright pussies, clear out the room with whatever grenade you think will leave the biggest hole, but make sure you overload your shields! Move into the atrium and blow whatever's in there to hell and back, heavy weapons authorized! After that, we find the civilians and hopefully bag a General or two! Clear?"

"What's that about pussies sir?" chimed in Simmons, "I couldn't hear you with my massive erection the shear awesomeness of this is giving me!" That earned him a hard punch to the side of the skull from Dah. Grissom, however, simply ignored it and proceeded to unload a large repulsion grenade, the rest of the squad doing the same with several different variants. He raised his hand, three fingers pointing towards the ceiling.

"Three…two…one…"

"MURICA!" Screamed Simmons as he launched two free-radical grenades towards the mass of troops still pouring into the large room while simultaneously increasing the power draw of their shielding enough to provide temporary protection from the blast . The combined force of the explosives immediately eradicated any Chinese infantry in the room, while the force of the repulsion and fragmentation grenades obliterated the walls and adjacent hallway, providing a clear path into the atrium. This atrium, however, was far from an empty space. Massive monitors adorned several sides of the expansive clearing, and several rows of computers and analyst stations populated the floor-space around them.

_Double shit, this is a full blown Operations Centre!_

"Move out!" Screamed Grissom, pushing the nagging tactical doubt of a crumbling plan out of his mind, "take the upper staircase on your side of the room and set up a nest to rain fire on the reinforcements! We hold position here until the numbers thin out!"

_ Which is hopefully a hell of a lot less than what I fear. _He mentally added. The typical PLA strategy was to contain aggressors with overwhelming numbers, especially in the case of VIP protection. If they truly thought the SOG commandoes were just the tip of the spear, they'd bunker the General's down in a safe room while the facilities guards held off the attack, giving them enough time to radio in reinforcements. Which, considering the presence of high ranking members of the command staff, wouldn't take that long at all.

He rolled towards the side of the now gaping hole and began laying down suppressive fire, his squad branching out behind him into different cover positions. A neural command from his headset set the gun's firing mode to "area-burst", upon which a powerful blast discharged from the muzzle and engulfed several Chinese soldiers unlucky enough to be within its blast radius. The overcharged burst of energy short-circuited the armoured brutes shield generators, while the gas chamber in their rifles overheated, turning them into volatile explosives. The now primed handheld bombs tore into armour and flesh of the soldiers unable to dispatch of them in time. Those who could suffered no worse a fate, however, as Hackett slide out of cover on his knees and discharged several shots from his heavy ion hand canon*, right into the skulls over the shield less Shock Troopers. Two or three rounds was all it took to drop the heavily armoured soldiers, allowing Hackett to effortlessly slip back out of the line of fire as more defenders descended towards them. Grissom fired another area-burst while simultaneously drawing his submachine gun, discharging an entire clip in the direction of a second advancing group. Vaulting over cover, the Colonel charged towards a hapless PLA officer attempting to reload, and quickly jabbed a telescopic knife into his throat. Grissom spun the exsanguinating trooper into the line of fire while discharging another clip into the opposing group. The overwhelming volume of fire easily penetrated their weakened shields and armour, with any survivors immediately being blown away by Mikhailovich's Blunderbuss Mrk II.

The large commando launched a fission grenade* in the direction of a large, bunkered down group, the massive blast decimating a good thirty square feet in the process. He readied his shotgun and charged headfirst into the remnants of a following group, all of whom were dazed and defenceless after the explosion. He fired 3 close range shots into the chests of the troopers before clubbing another one over the head with the butt end of his gun. Another baseball swipe to the visor of an officer, followed by another midrange shot cleared out the group near the bottom of the stairs, allowing Mikhailovich easy access. Hackett followed suit, nimbly scanning the area for downed shields before popping off a high power shot right between their visors.

Parallel to them, Dah was currently slamming a disarmed soldier's head into the desk he had been hiding behind while concurrently stomping onto the throat of an already downed trooper. Another powerful punch to the face launched a third soldier backwards, stunning him enough that there was little resistance he could counter with as a computer monitor slammed into his now helmet less head. Quick bursts from her submachine guns allowed her ample time to close the distance between herself and another group of hostiles. However, before she could proceed to rearrange their internal organs by hand, the tell-tale sound of a sniper rang out just near her head, forcing her to duck behind sturdy cover. She glanced over her cover, attempting to locate a vapour trail to track the location of the shooter. However, she was granted little in the way of time, as another high power round tore into the desk in front of her, blowing off a large portion of steel and wood. _Since when do the Chinese have a fucking BFG? _She screamed to herself as another round barely missed. Rolling to a different cover while dispensing a round of suppressive fire into the still entrenched Shock Troopers, she was barely able to catch the muzzle flash of the shooter, pointing her towards a shadowed I-beam just under the atrium's roof. She signalled to Simmons, happily perched the middle of the room, who was busy mowing down a group of tango's he had hurdled into place until his weapon overheated.

"Simmons! Take out that fucking ninja sniper before he takes my head off! I have brains that need bashing!"

Discarding the overheated weapon, he hunched himself behind the degrading desk, searching for a usable weapon. Unfortunately, all he could find was the plasma launcher Dah had brought in and which now lade abandoned after taking out several large groups of enemies near the start of the fire fight.

Well, unfortunate for anyone who valued subtlety anyways.

Waiting for the next visible flash, Simmons readied the launcher and aimed at the unsuspecting shadow.

"_You're fired!" _He shouted in his best Austrian accent. The ball of plasma energy rocketed out of the canon and struck the I-beam with such force that it disintegrated a large portion of the roof above it. The blast itself knocked several support beams loose, and the structure began to whine as the remaining supports buckled under the increased pressure. Grissom glanced at the ceiling, its shape now a concave oval drooping towards the ground.

_Fuck._

"FIND COVER!" He screamed, breaking the neck of his nearest grappling partner before sprinting towards the gaping hole from before. Hackett and Mikhailovich disengaged from the enemy leapt from there perch, quickly joining suite. Dah emptied one more sub machine gun clip into the troopers cover before launching herself towards the exit, Simmons hot on her heals. Just as the last commando dove into the destroyed conference, the sounds of retreating PLA Shock Troopers disappeared over the roaring sound of structural failure.

And the entire atrium area was plunged into darkness.

* * *

**CODEX ENTRY**

PEOPLE'S LIBERATION ARMY OF CHINA PERSONAL CLASSIFICATION-SHOCK TROOPERS

Unceremoniously referred to as "bullet spounges" by American personal, PLA Shock Troopers are heavily armoured and armed conscripts, mass produced to lead wide-scale swarm infantry maneuvers and soak up enemy fire. They are regarded as the spear-head of many PLA operations, and thus are considered an elite force. However members lack formal training beyond defensive tactics and basic firearms training in order to negate much of the cost burden China would suffer attempting to condition all members. Their strength lies in vast numbers and heavy armour, which has been specifically designed to counter as much of the American's technological advantage as possible.

Its unknown how many men and women make up the Shock Trooper Units. What is known, however, is that they posses unbreaking loyalty to the People's Republic, and that they can replenish their numbers at alarming rates. However, with veteran officers, who are atypically veterans of Shock Trooper Units, the hulking masses can be easily confused and disorganized, allowing highly trained units to easily pick them off. As such, casualty rates remain high, however that does not stop the tenacity of its members, nor negate the terrifying sight of a Shock Trooper charge.

* * *

**Well, thats the end of the third chapter (finally right?)**

**I was going to include a second Codex Entry on the new weapons added to the story, but I was getting fairly lazy, and the technology behidn them operates on a similar level to that of the rifle and SMG.**

**Anyways, off to work on the fourth one, hopefully making all you guys love me again...right?**

**Right?**


	5. Chapter 4

**And here is that other chapter I promised you tonight. Enjoy!**

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

Grissom stirred slightly as his primary sense began to return, and with it a serious pain in his head. That wouldn't be classified as unusual considering how it was highly probable that at least one floor was brought down on their heads.

Well, the PLA's head to be precise.

Switching his visor to night-vision to negate the fact that the facility was now, so far as he could tell, completely dark, he glanced out into what used to be the central command hub. A mountain of rubble now climbed towards what used to be the floor of the upper basement level. So far as the dazed commander's limited vision could determine, the facility was complete devoid of power.

And eerily silent…..

Movement in the ruins of the conference room suggested his team survived, mostly intact hopefully.

"Everyone in one piece?" he called out.

Hackett answered first. "Ugh….define 'piece'?"

Mikhailovich merely grunted, allowing his body to reach equilibrium again. Dahl, instead of making any audible noise, merely turned around and smashed her fist into Simmons gut, doubling over the already shaky commando.

"ARE YOU A FUCKING MORON!?" She screamed, her figure now towering over the winded soldier.

"*Cough* what did I do?" He sputtered, "besides…you know…..DOING WHAT YOU ASKED?"

"When I said get rid of that sniper, I didn't mean bring down the whole GODDAMN BUILDING TO DO IT!"

"So what if it was overboard? It worked! And look, I just took out the rest of the bullet sponges in the process! It's a win-FUCKING-win!"

"And the civilians that might be pancakes now?! What about them?! Or the whole lack of power thing!?"

"Hey, it's not my fault the wiring in this place is shit! I just collapsed one floor, if this is a command centre, _all evidence to the contrary_," he sarcastically mocked, "then there should be at least ten back up generators to restore power. There's no way the blast alone knocked out the lights everywhere. And besides, like I care about some stupid Australians and their stupid Guerrilla's, stupidly fighting against us because STUPID!"

"If anyone here is fucking STUPID….."

"Oh jeez give it a rest! You know, nagging me to death isn't going to work, since I can tell that's what you're trying. All its going to do is give me an ulcer and a negative disposition towards the fact that I practically have to live with you! So, for the nine-thousandth time..."

Grissom stepped in, his migraine now increasing in strength. "ENOUGH, both of you! We're not even close to being out of this situation yet. We have no idea if there are any PLA left in the building, just like we have no idea how many reinforcements are headed this way. So get in line and shut the fuck up before I shove my boot up both your asses at the same time!"

Neither Dahl nor Simmons spoke, their mutual silence signalling an end to the argument.

Grissom cleared his throat. "Alright, now that the facility's one roof short, the only way into its bowel's is up. Hopefully the civilian families are there too, and alive, but at this point I wouldn't hold my breath. Same goes for the four-stars we saw; my guess would be their long gone. Our main goal is intel now; I wanna know why the PLA is using Australian rebels, I wanna know how many are involved, I wanna know why we didn't see a single one in that fire fight, and I wanna know how well armed and trained they are."

"Is it possible that this isn't a staging ground to begin with?" Hackett inquired.

"Possible, but it's a central intelligence hub regardless, or was. There'll be a cove of info here regardless, and if it's as widespread as a insurgency aught to be, we'll find something here. Everyone clear?"

"Roger sir!" the group replied in unison.

"Good. Lets get moving." Before the group even began to shuffle, Grissom turned back towards them. "Where the fuck was Walters? I didn't see him at all back there?"

Mikhailovich shuffled awkwardly and coughed, his foot tapping against an arm buried under the rubble of the conference room's collapsed sewer wall.

Grissom stared silently for a second.

"Oh."

….

The group's com links and personal GPS were all still functioning, luckily, so Grissom split the remaining four personal, sending each operative to scout a different section of the remaining basement floors. Jon found it illogical to place any sensitive data above ground, considering how open it would be to bombardment or aggression. Granted, none of this had planned out as anticipated, which isn't in of itself uncommon in the least, expected is more accurate. But being this wrong, of this magnititude, Grissom wasn't so quick to put faith in sound logic anymore.

_Intel's actually getting worse for Christ sake. _He mused.

Rounding a corner, a large set of locked double doors greeted him. His linguistics VI visually translated the mandarin writing above them as "Medical Laboratories and Research #3", with the customary "authorized personal only" blurb adjacent to it. Grissom drew his pistol, aiming at the degrading door hinges that appeared to barely support the weight. Four shots later, and both heavy plated doors tumbled to the marble floor with an audible _crash_, kicking a layer of newly formed dust into the air. Parting through it, the Colonel found himself in the middle of a crowded row of operating tables and computers-which seemed to date back quite a few decades even-in addition to several large bulletin boards parallel to a select few of the tables-boards that dated back even further than the computers.

_Obviously not the most funded project the Chinese have been working on._

He tapped a few keys on the nearest keyboard, ultimately unsurprised when the monitor gave no response. However, the partially melted hard drive situated underneath did strike him as odd.

_I'm no computer expert by far, but there's no way even a general power surge, let alone a power failure, would do that. They're hiding something, trying to cover their tracks. But for what?_

Out of the corner of his eye, Grissom caught sight of an image and subsequent notes pinned onto one of the boards across the room. Closing the distance quickly, the image revealed itself as a bird's eye view of a man's opened skull, with a significant portion of the brain's frontal lobe. Judging from the skin colour, the man was an Australian. He glanced at the notes attached below it, his VI processing and translating the writing.

_Removal of 13% of frontal lobe….. limited synapses… behavioural alterations related to rewards and punishments…. 94% increase in cause/figure related affirmation…..artificially induced? What the…..they couldn't honestly be talking about…..mind control could they? _

Before he could gather his thoughts, a buzzing noise pierced his ear.

"Colonel? Its Dah. Remember all that talk about civilians?"

…

Jill Dahl had been in more wars than most people would care to count, and she had seen more bodies in those wars than most people would want to count. She was accustomed to death and violence; it was a norm for her. And in any other world she would have been concerned about that. To her though, a dead colleague, a fellow soldier that gave up their life, they were another sacrifice you were fighting for at the end of the day.

But the idea of civilians, innocent non-combatants, that always got to her. Especially if the bodies were as mutilated as the ones she was staring at now. Most of them were riddled with bullet holes, and judging by their placement, at least some of them were running, trying to get away from their inevitable demise. Some of the corpses though had massive bite marks riddled across their bodies, sharp indents where flesh was stripped from bone. The thought of it shook the sturdy soldier to her core.

"What is it Jill?" Grissom asked, his voice solemn. He understood exactly what she was looking at, she could tell.

"They're…..dead, sir. All of them it looks like. Or….at least however many were being held here."

"Held?"

"Yessir. Looks like it was definitely against their will. Unless Australians typically live in….cages."

She glanced around again at the bodies strewn across the blood-soaked floor, the crimson red flowing into the endless rows of cages and cells. She shuttered. Whatever happened, these poor souls didn't stand a chance. But despite all that, she couldn't stifle that odd feeling she got whenever she examined the wounds closer. Grissom seemed to pick up on this.

"Firing squad?"

"I don't think so sir. The cages are all electronically locked…or…_were_ electronically locked. And the bullet wounds are inconsistent and random. My guess would be that after the power failed, the security system went with it. Guards couldn't maintain control with all these prisoners running wild, so they just opened fire and hit the road. Quickest way to deal with a population problem is to shoot everyone."

"But that's not all is it?" He pried, privy to the uneasiness in Jill's voice.

"Some of the bodies don't have bullet holes…just…..bite marks. Flesh ripped from bone kind of bites. I think that's how some of them died."

"They resorted to cannibalism?"

"Don't think so, these aren't human teeth marks. I wanna say dogs but….I've never seen canines like this."

"Where are you?"

"Two lefts and a right from where we started sir."

"Alright, I think the team needs to meet up and compare notes. I've found more than enough weird self too, and I think…"

"Wait!" Jill cut him off as she rounded a corner, slowly walking farther back into the cells. "I see something….it looks like a…._Jesus Christ!"_

Jill recoiled in horror and backed away slowly. In front of her was a Chinese guard with a small Australian girl on top of him, and a knife that she was holding plunged deep into his head. His terrified face was contorted painfully around the blade and his severed arm reached aimlessly for the destroyed rifle five feet away from him. The girl was riddled with bullets throughout her torso, but it was the maniacal grin that she wore that literally made Jill Dahl's heart stop.

"Jill! What is it!? Talk to me here?!"

"Jesus sir you need to get over here now! Something really freaky is….."

She was cut off as a strong hand clamped firmly around her ankle, pulling her foot out from under her. The strong hand quickly pulled the screaming commando into the darkness, the voice of Grissom quickly fading away.

"**JILL!"**

* * *

**Well that, ladies and gentlemen, is chapter 4. I originally thought about carrying on from there, but I thought leaving the chapter at this point would be better for the overall story flow. Even if it is a little shorter.**

**I have a general idea if how I want this particular arc of the story to go, so hopefully I'll be able to update more frequently. But I can't make any promises. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and sorry again for the long wait!**

**NOTE* I also totally did NOT forget that Walters was a character. Absolutely not. Not even close. Certainly didn't kill him off simply because I forgot.**

**Nope.**


End file.
